The Complete Sherlock Holmes

“I have had that name among those that knew
me best.”
“Well, we may try you sooner than you think.
Have you heard anything of the lodge in these
parts?”
“I’ve heard that it takes a man to be a brother.”
“True for you, Mr. McMurdo. Why did you
leave Chicago?”
“I’m damned if I tell you that!”
McGinty opened his eyes. He was not used
to being answered in such fashion, and it amused
him. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because no brother may tell another a lie.”
“Then the truth is too bad to tell?”
“You can put it that way if you like.”
“See here, mister, you can’t expect me, as Bodymaster,
to pass into the lodge a man for whose past
he can’t answer.”
McMurdo looked puzzled. Then he took a
worn newspaper cutting from an inner pocket.
“You wouldn’t squeal on a fellow?” said he.
“I’ll wipe my hand across your face if you say
such words to me!” cried McGinty hotly.
“You are right, Councillor,” said McMurdo
meekly. “I should apologize. I spoke without
thought. Well, I know that I am safe in your hands.
Look at that clipping.”
McGinty glanced his eyes over the account of
the shooting of one Jonas Pinto, in the Lake Saloon,
Market Street, Chicago, in the New Year week of
1874.
“Your work?” he asked, as he handed back the
paper.
McMurdo nodded.
“Why did you shoot him?”
“I was helping Uncle Sam to make dollars.
Maybe mine were not as good gold as his, but they
looked as well and were cheaper to make. This
man Pinto helped me to shove the queer—”
“To do what?”
“Well, it means to pass the dollars out into circulation.
Then he said he would split. Maybe he
did split. I didn’t wait to see. I just killed him and
lighted out for the coal country.”
“Why the coal country?”
“’Cause I’d read in the papers that they weren’t
too particular in those parts.”
McGinty laughed. “You were first a coiner and
then a murderer, and you came to these parts because
you thought you’d be welcome.”
The Valley Of Fear
710
“That’s about the size of it,” McMurdo answered.
“Well, I guess you’ll go far. Say, can you make
those dollars yet?”
McMurdo took half a dozen from his pocket.
“Those never passed the Philadelphia mint,” said
he.
“You don’t say!” McGinty held them to the
light in his enormous hand, which was hairy as
a gorilla’s. “I can see no difference. Gar! you’ll
be a mighty useful brother, I’m thinking! We can
do with a bad man or two among us, Friend Mc-
Murdo: for there are times when we have to take
our own part. We’d soon be against the wall if we
didn’t shove back at those that were pushing us.”
“Well, I guess I’ll do my share of shoving with
the rest of the boys.”
“You seem to have a good nerve. You didn’t
squirm when I shoved this gun at you.”
“It was not me that was in danger.”
“Who then?”
“It was you, Councillor.” McMurdo drew a
cocked pistol from the side pocket of his peajacket.
“I was covering you all the time. I guess my shot
would have been as quick as yours.”
“By Gar!” McGinty flushed an angry red and
then burst into a roar of laughter. “Say, we’ve had
no such holy terror come to hand this many a year.
I reckon the lodge will learn to be proud of you
. . . Well, what the hell do you want? And can’t I
speak alone with a gentleman for five minutes but
you must butt in on us?”
The bartender stood abashed. “I’m sorry,
Councillor, but it’s Ted Baldwin. He says he must
see you this very minute.”
The message was unnecessary; for the set, cruel
face of the man himself was looking over the servant’s
shoulder. He pushed the bartender out and
closed the door on him.
“So,” said he with a furious glance at Mc-
Murdo, “you got here first, did you? I’ve a word
to say to you, Councillor, about this man.”
“Then say it here and now before my face,”
cried McMurdo.
“I’ll say it at my own time, in my own way.”
“Tut! Tut!” said McGinty, getting off his barrel.
“This will never do. We have a new brother here,
Baldwin, and it’s not for us to greet him in such
fashion. Hold out your hand, man, and make it
up!”
“Never!” cried Baldwin in a fury.
“I’ve offered to fight him if he thinks I have
wronged him,” said McMurdo. “I’ll fight him with